


Slumber

by GingerEl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Badass Sania, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, World of Ruin, non-excessive drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerEl/pseuds/GingerEl
Summary: The endless night sets in and Aranea is left with the choice to let everyone starve - and her along with them - or offer up her ship and services in anyway she can to stop it from happening.She didn't anticipate getting lumped with Sania. Or liking her.“Impressive specimen,” Sania had said, like she hadn’t just been mostly responsible for it’s death.She pokes at it absently with the end of her weapon then turns without prompting to stick her spear into the mud rapidly forming beneath their feet. The lance stands upright and Aranea watches, still frozen slightly in surprise, as Sania unfurls a roll of plastic bags from her pocket.“If you handle the weapon,” Sania told her, “I’ll collect the herbs and harvest the edible parts of this beast and we can head back out.”Alternatively: Sania's not just a scientist. And Aranea likes it.Written for FFXV Rare Pair Week 2021 | Day 2 - There was only one bed
Relationships: Aranea Highwind/Sania Yeagre
Kudos: 6
Collections: FFXV Rare Pairs Week 2021





	Slumber

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of cannibalised this idea from my larger Sania/Aranea work that’s…..coming. I can only focus on so many larger projects at once and I currently overloaded my plate right now. But! This is a nice little taster things to come.

Sania’s filled her airship with every type of critter in Lucis. Every type that’ll fit in a standard issue imperial aircraft anyway.

They moved some garula last week, sedated them smallest ones and brought in every available pair of hands they could find to shift them inside and get them halfway across the continent as fast as Aranea ship could manage. They’d set them ship down in the huge paddock Sania had set up and got the doors open _just_ in time for the beasts to wake up and lumber out without destroying _too much_ of Aranea’s ship interior.

Sania owes her a new light.

But considering she’s the one partnering up with Cindy to develop and create the ones they’re using to grow crops and grass to keep them _and_ livestock fed and well, Aranea thinks she’s good for it. Once they have one to spare.

Aranea can wait. For the good of everyone. Even though that concept is new to her. It’s nice to be a part of something, of people,

When the endless night persisted past six months it became quickly obvious that they needed to come up with some ingenious way to make food. Or let everyone starve.

Aranea wasn’t particularly fond of the second option so, ultimately, she’d offered up her services to help with the first one in any way she could.

She hadn’t necessarily expected that offer to cause her to spend the better part of the last three months flying back and forth across Lucis collecting all manner of flora and fauna for Sania to study and save.

It hadn’t all been smooth sailing. At first Aranea had chaffed at someone else on her ship other than Biggs and Wedge, had grimaced every time she’d walked past the wall stacked high with tanks and cages, empty at first but slowly filling.

Aranea doesn’t mind the birds, they _smell_ but the noises they make are generally pleasant. But the rodents? The small mammals plucked out of borrows? They move around and around, scampering at all times of day stinking up the place and give her a headache.

Not to mention the _frogs_. The strange wet noise they make day in and day out. No matter how many trips they take there’s always _at least_ one on the ship, always one shiny frog, bright green or yellow or red, taking up space on her ship and blinking their round eyes at her.

And of course, at first, it had been compounded by the fact that Aranea just _didn’t like_ Sania.

She talked too much and about things Aranea didn’t _really_ care about. She was nosey and a little rude, _telling_ Aranea how she would be using the ship and bossing Biggs and Wedge around like they were on her payroll.

They aren’t on _anyone's_ payroll. Haven’t been since Aranea had made the final decision to ditch the empire - to distance herself from actions that made her feel desperately uncomfortable.

But.

Several trips to Ravatogh and back, a night time trek through the Vesperpool where they’d teamed up to net a young chickatrice - or _three_ \- to round up and deliver back to the cluster of lights now keeping the world turning had managed to change Aranea’s mind.

She remembers one time, after just a few weeks together, when they’d gotten caught in the rain hunting down some sort of rare herb Sania thought grew along the banks Duscaen lakes. They’d had no luck, hopping from place to place and been just two minutes away from giving up when Sania had suddenly cried with triumph and gone tearing past Aranea, back up the ramp to the ship, muttering something unintelligible about gathering equipment.

Then the rain had started.

Not a light rain, not a mist coming off the water but big fat bullet sized raindrops that snuck in underneath Aranea’s armour to stick her under suit against her skin.

And _of course_ with the rain came one of those horrible _toads_. Huge and hulking with stomping legs and tongue long enough to knock you off your feet from a dozen paces and strong enough to snap your leg if you let it. Aranea knew she could take it down, even by herself - it would be challenging but not impossible. She’d just landed a strike on it’s flank and regained her feet when she sees another of her lances fly into her periphery and stab at the toads extending tongue, damaging the muscle and stopping it from retracting properly.

The toad attempts to roll and crush Sania beneath it but she dodges out of the way, twisting away before lunging back in and spearing the toad in it’s underbelly. Aranea recovers from her shock in time to step into help, adding her own spear and driving it deep enough that the beast gurgles grossly and falls still.

“Impressive specimen,” Sania had said, like she hadn’t just been mostly responsible for it’s death.

She pokes at it absently with the end of her weapon then turns without prompting to stick her spear into the mud rapidly forming beneath their feet. The lance stands upright and Aranea watches, still frozen slightly in surprise, as Sania unfurls a roll of plastic bags from her pocket.

“If you handle the weapon,” Sania told her, “I’ll collect the herbs and harvest the edible parts of this beast and we can head back out.”

So Aranea had done as she said, picked up Sania’s chosen weapon and dragged it back to the ship. Given it a perfunctory clean before leaving it in the rack for a proper going over later.

Aranea had _no idea_ that Sania was capable of that. She’d put her into a box in her head - smart, a little awkward, funny without meaning to be - but she’d never for a second thought she would describe Sania as a capable fighter.

So Aranea had added it to Sania’s list of descriptors and moved on.

Mostly.

It was just _different_ after that.

Aranea can’t _look_ at her the same. Suddenly _everything_ she does is impressive. The way Sania rambles as she checks the toes of all her frogs each day and meticulously weighs out diced veggies and gathered leaves for the fluffy things in cages from sheer memory alone. Aranea stands close enough to listen to her rambling, _listens_ enough to ask questions and egg her on when she eventually reaches a lull in her rambling. Sania _lights_ up when she talks, using her hands almost as much as her words, excited and exhilarated to talk about the multitude of things she feels passionate about.

They spend so little time apart yet for the four days Aranea has to pause to take Prompto into Niflheim - in what ends up being a fruitless expedition - Aranea feels strange and confused. Lost.

“Missing your girlfriend?” Prompto had asked, parts of his gun littered across the floor as he pulls it apart for cleaning.

Aranea hadn’t answered, afraid that a vehement refusal would say more than her silence. Prompto hadn’t pressed any further, just smirked at her when he checked the sights on his weapon and Aranea’s glad because at the end of the day she _likes_ the kid and having to kick his ass again would no longer be any fun.

-

Their expedition didn’t go well.

They land the airship outside one of the makeshift settlements between Lestallum and Cape Caem, leaving Biggs and Wedge to watch over it as they traipse through the reinforced gate. Decisively they turn their backs on the empty hull that indicates their complete and utter failure. No need to dwell on it now.

It wasn’t their fault. They’d gone with the hopes of rounding up a rumoured herd of anaks into a secure area and if _that_ wasn’t possible at least observe them - this group that had survived where others are not. But they’d flown out and set the ship down to find _nothing_. Not nothing exactly, because they’d had to fight off a savage horde of daemons to get back out again.

But no wildlife, no hopeful indication about preservation of Eos.

Not even Sania’s preoccupation with miasma had been enough to cheer her up.

“Next time,” Aranea says to Sania as the doors to the ship close behind them, “We’ll get them next time.”

Sania makes a non-committal noise and Aranea feels the urge to reassure her. She drapes an arm across Sania’s shoulder and gives her a jostle.

“C’mon,” she says, “I’ll buy you dinner _and_ a large cup of whatever swill they’ve got brewing up in a bathtub out back.”

Sania laughs, “Normally I would not risk my faculties for such an escape but I think, just this once, I might.”

Aranea snatches her arm back before it gets too comfortable around her friend. Prompto’s mocking _‘missing you girlfriend?’_ ringing in his ears all these weeks later.

“Highwind!” someone calls and she raises her hand in a lazy wave.

They don’t use money any more, but Aranea always has plenty of scrap for trade, a huge stash of Imperial weapons tucked up in her ship explicitly for the purpose of bartering.

She trades a couple weapons and a small case of springs and screws to secure them two plates of food, two drinks and -

“I’ll throw in lodgings,” the proprietor says.

“We have the ship,” Sania argues, “No use taking a bed from someone that needs it.”

Sania scoops up the mug as soon as its set before her, taking a large swig before placing it back down, face creasing in disgust. It’s brown, whatever the drink is, which is not _usually_ a good sign in instances such as these.

Affective though, Aranea thinks, it’ll be strong and it’ll do the job of distracting them well enough.

“Plenty of space,” he tells them, “We got the motel cleared out and reconnected to the electricity, I can spare a room big enough for the two of you.”

Aranea catches Sania’s eye and shrugs, reaching for the drink again.

“Might be nice to have a real mattress for a change,” Aranea agrees and she raises her own mug in a miserable salute.

From the other side of the table she pulls Sania into conversation, stilted and difficult at first but _determined_ to put some _feeling_ back into Sania’s face. It takes a while for something to stick but eventually -

“- naturally has some antibiotic properties which I should be able to extract with the right equipment.”

“Not as good as conventional pills but -”

“Should do in a pinch, and certainly better than having nothing at all,” Sania agrees.

“We can try for a harvest soon,” Aranea offers, “We can take the ship, grab some extra hands since the coast is always so dicey.”

Sania smiles, “That’s not the _most_ fascinating thing about this seaweed of course.”

Aranea raises her mug again to hide her own grin and is pleased to see that by the time they're done eating are crossing the street to collect their key from the hunter manning the desk at the motel Sania is quite back to her normal self.

Sania enters the room with no problem, crossing to creaky chair next to the small table to sit down and start pulling off her boots.

“At least we can say it didn’t rain,” Sania says but Aranea can only focus on one thing.

There’s only one bed.

“The drink got better the more I had,” Sania adds, “Though that’s usually the case and I’ll regret it tomorrow.”

There’s only _one_ bed _._

“Unusually good food,” Sania keeps on, “They must be on the secure trade route from Caem.”

“There’s only one bed,” Aranea blurts.

Sania glances at it and reminds her, “We’ve slept in tighter quarters.”

Well, yes.

But not like _this_.

Cramming together in a small tent on a crowded haven is another. Pushing their cots together on the ship because the space is taken up with crates and cages is another.

But this - lying close together on a potentially soft mattress with a thick duvet over them - is something else _entirely._

Sania stands and strips down to her t-shirt and shorts which is _completely normal_ ; Aranea’s seen it happen a hundred times over by now but it still freezes her in place. Her friend crosses the room and pulls back the blankets on the left side, flopping down onto the mattress with a soft groan.

“Why are you just standing there?” Sania asks, “I know it’s been a while but you can’t convince me you’ve completely forgotten how proper beds work.”

“Right,” Aranea says.

It takes her a little while to take off her armour and get herself dressed down enough to be comfortable for sleep. Which is _good_ because it gives her ample opportunity to _think_ , to convince herself that this _is_ normal, like any other night and there is absolutely _no reason_ for her heart to be beating faster than normal.

She’ll just climb into bed and turn her back, pretend that it’s a single mattress and she’s on it alone. There’s plenty of space, there’s not reason for her to come into contact with Sania whatsoever.

There’s no reason for then dumb _soft_ part of her brain to take over the good smart bits and ruin this for her. She likes being Sania’s friend, there’s no need to complicate matters.

Aranea stacks her armour carefully and pulls back the covers only enough so that she can get in, not wanting to disturb Sania by letting the warmth out.

Her plans to roll over and temporarily pretend her friend doesn’t exist is scuppered immediately by Sania rolling onto her side to face her and saying not just her name but her _nickname_ softly into the silence.

“Nea…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” Sania says.

Surprised Aranea turns her head, catching Sania’s dark eyes, warm in the low lighting and unguarded physically and metaphorically with her glasses missing and her expression open.

“For what?” Aranea asks.

“Being here,” Sania says, “You listen to my ideas and you help me try them out. Even when it seems hopeless.”

Aranea chuckles dryly, “Start proving me wrong and I’ll stop taking chances on you.”

“Never,” Sania says.

The bed shifts slightly then a weight settles over stomach. Sania’s arm wrapping around her. Something brushes her shoulder, warm soft skin and hot breath and Aranea wonders if she’d turned to look at her again she would have seen Sania kissing her shoulder.

There’s _something_ here. Aranea can feel it, even if she cant put it to words yet.

She closes her eyes, wondering how deeply she’ll manage to sleep wrapped in the warmth of the room. The relative but well founded safety and the quiet joy of being wrapped in Sania's arm.

Astrals when did she get so _soft_.

It’s so _quiet_.

Aranea sighs.

“What’s the matter?” Sania asks.

“I think I miss the noise of the _frogs_.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Ginger_El_) where I yell about all things FFXV including this, the rarest of my rare pairs that has stolen my heart.


End file.
